


Another Kind of Failsafe

by jaded_firefly



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: 5x11 “Failsafe”, Cursed?, F/F, F/M, Probably.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:26:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaded_firefly/pseuds/jaded_firefly
Summary: Adora, Catra, Melog, Glimmer, Bow, Castapella, and Shadow Weaver go to Mysatcor to obtain the failsafe for the Heart of Etheria for the Rebels but Casta is tormented by memories of a past love.Three Songs to Go With this Work: "Strangers When We Meet" Bowie,  "I Should Not Be Seeing You" Connie Conway, "Are You Ever Gonna Change" Travis Bretzer
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Castaspella & Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra), Castaspella/Juliet (She-Ra), Catra & Melog (She-Ra)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Another Kind of Failsafe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rossaro L.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Rossaro+L.).



“Some of the fire is illusory and some is real. Everyone be careful--” Shadow Weaver’s voice mimics the fire, deep, lulling, and deceptively warm. She’s subtly waving an open hand, gesturing to me to move ahead into the red, dancing flames. Her eyes, unemotive, pierce through her mask. I can almost see something in them but force my mind to let it go before I get the chance to figure out what. The warmth I had felt moments ago, watching Glimmer’s blonde friend and the cat girl poke fun at each other dissipates as I recall the pain of young love. My heart weaves in beating frustration at the melee of emotions stemming from Shadow Weaver’s braggart commentary and penetrating looks. The past two days have refined my judgments in her unchanging and incorrigible nature but I still wonder about her constitution. 

I walk through the flames. The magic licks my arms and tugs at the pink fabric trailing behind my dress. The others pass after me and we enter the secondary passage. The corridor floor is laden in a deep crimson, carved but austere in the light of the flames. Pillars, adorned in the same red as the floor, flicker with golden heat and cast dark shadows on their opposing limbs. They create an aura of extremes and opposites among the blaze. 

Too close for comfort, heat radiates from the flames that lack illusion. I hear Glimmer and Bow instep behind me. The two are never far apart. My pace shortens and I fall into sync with their step. 

“Hey Aunt Casta--” Bow’s face is sullen with the grief of the past few months but his demeanor, next to Glimmer’s, is one of a contented predilection. I usually do not mind when he calls me Aunt. Even a stranger could see the two of them are tied together as a sailing knot is, making Aunt Casta an inevitable moniker. I wonder if I can get Glimmer to hold the wedding on Mystacor but I imagine she will insist on having it in Brightmoon, just like her father did. 

I usually do not mind--this instance is different. It’s foreboding with Shadow Weaver so near, with Micah’s daughter so near, with the consequences of the past so near. I smile at Bow to hide my consternation and once again slow my pace. Bow and Glimmer step ahead--chatting softly, fingers teasing interlacement. 

I look over my shoulder. Shadow Weaver is walking beside Adora and I’m not the only one who has noticed. Catra, a few paces ahead of the two, wears a face of suspicion, anger, and even fear as she sees the two of them walk in time. 

Shadow Weaver’s hair gracefully twists behind her as she speaks, almost emerald again in the fire’s keen reflection, redolent of a violent nostalgia. She and I haven’t spent such an extended period close to one another since she was Light Spinner. Since before she left me for the dreams that she loved more than she loved me. Since before my younger brother Micah. 

Micah was eight, fifteen years my younger, scarcely old enough to be taught magic, but our parents, pleased with their unplanned child and recognizing a great talent in him sent him to learn where his older sister was. Tucked away in the hidden city of Mystacor Micah quickly excelled.

Micah, my brother, you’ve become so old. Beast Island has aged you like Mystacor has kept my youth. Where are you now that you’ve achieved a fancied resurrection? Now that we, now that I need you most? Light Spinner took notice of you forthwith. Asking about you as we settled into our bed the night of your arrival. It would be several years before she would teach you, but she would find her way into your mind. She talked of you for hours, filling our room with her hopes of the young sorcerer to join us in her brilliant campaign of Mystacor against the Horde. 

She was dressed in simple nightclothes, amaranth silken pants, and a buttoned top of the same shade and material, dark pink face scarf lying off one ear, twisted on the pillow. The sky darkens, she moves her nose closer to mine, her voice drops to breathy murmur. 

The image is potent, it plagues my mind, creeping around its corners as a lurking disease yet offering an oddly appealing sensation. I’ve faltered, giving away to the acute reverie. I force myself back to time, to the passage, to the failsafe, to my niece, to Shadow Weaver--to Adora. 

Shadow Weaver has become more intent in her conversation with her. The two have stopped walking. Adora’s body language is tense and defensive. Her pain, her loss is palpable as she contends for herself in the presence of her first maternal figure. 

Shadow Weaver speaks again and Adora curls in on herself, gifting her vulnerability back to the woman who tore her apart. Adora loses every time. My eyes drift to Catra--I know all too well the lull of Shadow Weaver’s grasp. She’s more aware of the two than ever, coming to a complete standstill, Catra conceals herself between two pillars. She hears the words I am too far to comprehend. 

The firelight maps Shadow Weaver’s dark silhouette in a yellow luminescence, her madonna mannerisms indelible in this moment. She grasps Adora’s hands and touches her face. The intimacy of mother and daughter is unmistakable yet, Adora backs away from her. Catra’s face falls, translating the content of the last words spoken. There is anger in Catra’s face, but toward whom I cannot say. Catra understands something that I have not yet begun to grasp. 

***

The chamber is cloaked in a darkness that announces an eerie sensibility. The failsafe’s magic is tangible enough to drink with cupped hands. Whispers of wonder and query float from the mouths of the group. Shadow Weaver collects these questions and distributes the answers. 

She prompts Adora to take failsafe. With no other suggestions, the young rebellion leader approaches the obelisk. It’s imposing form is almost beautiful if one can battle the ambiance of danger nestled around it. I watch. Bow watches. Glimmer watches. Catra runs. She runs to Adora and wraps her fingers around her wrist. Anger and betrayal flicker behind her blue and yellow eyes, but she’s not looking at Adora. 

“I’ve been watching you the whole way in--” She turns to face Shadow Weaver “You’ve been in here before haven’t you?” Catra’s fingers stay laced around Adora’s wrist. There is confidence and assurance in her voice, we all turn to look at the accused. 

Shadow Weaver and I had discovered where the failsafe entrance would lay before we went to the rebel hideout, but she had insisted we not go in. Did she come back? I drift away into memory, trying to recall when she would have been able to come back. 

Catra’s anger overtakes her voice, whipping me back into the accusation. “What aren’t you telling us?” 

“Answer the question--” I demand Catra's magical panther growling to emphasize. Shadow Weaver expounds but I already know the answer. Once more Shadow Weaver was willing to sacrifice things others loved and people she cared for the mere opportunity of power. 

Light Spinner, where has your loving ambition gone? Why must you use your beautiful mind to tear us apart? Why must you deconstruct young love and manipulate it into power? Why can I never see through it? 

We never should have brought you. I should have insisted you stay at the camp. I should have found another way. 

Glimmer and Bow add their voices to the cacophony of argument. I can’t take my eyes off Shadow Weaver as she defenders herself in sweeping gestures. Amidst the chaos, Adora moves toward the failsafe. 

Moving with no furtiveness, her friends yell in protest and even anguish. Catra grasps at Adora’s clothing, her pleas have become more desperate, more intimate. The chamber has become over-stimulated, but there is something else. Movement from the corridor. Someone is coming. 

I move to call out an alarm, to draw a spell but I’m too late. Three figures appear in the doorway. My plea for Micah’s presence manifests itself in the illusioned flames and goes straight for Adora. I wonder what thoughts grow in her mind as Light Spinner sees Micah, cloaked in darkness and manipulation, becoming the incarnation of the marriage of darkness and power she always wanted him to be, but I move my focus to the battle at hand and the thought wanders from my mind.


End file.
